Then Jesus went about all the cities and villages, teaching
in their synagogues, and proclaiming the good news of the kingdom, and curing
every disease and every sickness. When he saw the crowds, Jesus had compassion
for them, because they were harassed and helpless, like sheep without a
shepherd. Then Jesus said to his disciples, “The harvest is plentiful, but the
laborers are few; therefore ask the Lord of the harvest to send out laborers
into his harvest.”
Then Jesus summoned his twelve disciples and gave them
authority over unclean spirits, to cast them out, and to cure every disease and
every sickness. These are the names of the twelve apostles: first, Simon, also
known as Peter, and his brother Andrew; James son of Zebedee, and his brother
John; Philip and Bartholomew; Thomas and Matthew the tax collector; James son
of Alphaeus, and Thaddaeus; Simon the Cananaean, and Judas Iscariot, the one
who betrayed him. These twelve Jesus sent out with the following
instructions:
“Go nowhere among the Gentiles, and enter no town of the
Samaritans, but go rather to the lost sheep of the house of Israel. As you
go, proclaim the good news, ‘The kingdom of heaven has come near.’ Cure the
sick, raise the dead, cleanse the lepers, cast out demons. You received without
payment; give without payment. Take no gold, or silver, or copper in your
belts, no bag for your journey, or two tunics, or sandals, or a staff; for
laborers deserve their food. Whatever town or village you enter, find out who
in it is worthy, and stay there until you leave. As you enter the house, greet
it. If the house is worthy, let your peace come upon it; but if it is not
worthy, let your peace return to you. If anyone will not welcome you or listen
to your words, shake off the dust from your feet as you leave that house or
town. Truly I tell you, it will be more tolerable for the land
of Sodom and Gomorrah on the day of judgment than for that
town.
“See, I am sending you out like sheep into the midst of
wolves; so be wise as serpents and innocent as doves. Beware of them, for they
will hand you over to councils and flog you in their synagogues; and you will
be dragged before governors and kings because of me, as a testimony to them and
the Gentiles. When they hand you over, do not worry about how you are to speak
or what you are to say; for what you are to say will be given to you at that
time; for it is not you who speak, but the Spirit of your Father speaking
through you. Brother will betray brother to death, and a father his child, and
children will rise against parents and have them put to death; and you will be
hated by all because of my name. But the one who endures to the end will be
saved. When they persecute you in one town, flee to the next; for truly I tell
you, you will not have gone through all the towns of Israel before the Son of Man
comes.
***
Yesterday was unexpectedly filled with a parade of diverse
strangers all day long.
It began literally running an errand to a friend’s house. I
heard yelling from around the corner and couldn't place it until I saw, in a
front yard, a young woman being physically blocked by a man as she tried to get
around him to leave. I slowed and they saw me and he let her walk away. I
looked in her eyes and asked her, “Are you okay?” She nodded and kept going.
The man yelled at me, “Jogger, keep jogging,” and I wished I had my phone to
call the police. He continued, “Now everyone is going to think I am a bad
person,” as if that, instead of her safety was the main concern. He yelled at
her, in a last ditch effort of control, “What do you want me to do? I’m going
to put purse on the porch if your leaving,” and it worked, I watched her turn
around and walk back in. I jogged on realizing the the helplessness of two
women with nothing but the clothes on their back, and the shoes on their feet.
All you have is your ability to walk, or jog, or look someone in the eye, and
as I jogged back, I saw her in the distance, walking, and I wished I had my car
to go see if she wanted a ride to May Day, or somewhere out of there. Then saw
him rev up his car.
The second set of strangers was also a couple. My gal friend
and I had taken a raft the size of a bathtub and forded the Snake
River at the calm water of the Oxbow Dam and hiked up into a secluded
Hot Spring. I’d never run into people there, but it was the first beautiful day
in months and a Saturday at that. Cresting the ridge, I saw a woman laying out
and a man scrubbing the primitive tub. Not wanting the startle them, and not
being able to see her well enough to see her suit I said, “Hi,” loudly twice.
He couldn’t hear me over the sound of the water, until she, sat up with a suit
on and got his attention. He looked up, and said, “No.” Maybe he said, “Oh.”
Either way, I felt badly, and unwelcome. There is a way, with small remote hot springs, that they
feel like the child’s game, King of the Hill, they belong to the first person
to claim it. Like if your second, you have to go find a better bigger hill, or
kick the king off. We had no other hill, we had driven a couple hours,
and gotten snacks together and fit ourselves in a tiny raft. It was her first
time since she could remember having a day without her kids and I could not
remember the last time I woke up and got to put on a swimsuit, what I had
remarked were the makings of a great day. With no other place to go, we had to
share the hill, so I put down my stuff, found a scrub brush and hopped in the
clay tub and started scrubbing. I asked where they were from and how they got
there as no boat was docked at the shore. I was relived to hear Idaho, and he and his
family owned a jet boat company at Hell’s Canyon, and this was their regular
haunt, but I felt sadly that they had been dropped off as they were stuck with
us. So, I said, “My name is Katy,” and they too introduced themselves. Seeing
my bag, the woman commented, “You brought a pineapple?” and when we picnicked,
while they hot tubbed, and after it was cut, I said, “Let’s share with our new
friends,” and on the makeshift cutting board of a magazine my friend offered
them bright yellow rounds, telling them it was great with the chill/tamarind
seasoning and they talked about different things they had had them on. When she
got back to our spot, I said to my friend, this is the scripture. We are in it.
And I wondered, how many picnics the disciples shared when perhaps all they had
was a snack. About an hour later, when the couple was picked up, it felt
friendly saying goodbye and wished each other a good day.
As the afternoon drew on and my friend and I were in the
water my friend said, “There are people.” Like us, they were hesitant to walk
up so, I sat out of the water a bit to help them see us, and then realized it
was my friend from town and her family. I waved excitedly, and said to her
daughter who shares my name, “Hi, Katy!” and her mom, “Hi Kim.” It was
immediate energy as my friend and Kim also went to college together. A small
world for sure. I pointed out to the family the wild asparagus, and the goose
sitting on her eggs, and I showed little Katy, the tube that brought the hot,
hot water, and the one that brought the cool river water. It always feels like
if you can bridge with the kid, everyone else soon feels comfortable. Not long
after, though they hadn’t brought suits, they dipped their legs in the warmth,
and we talked and told stories together until they felt it was time to go. I
wondered about Jesus reminding the disciples to welcome the children, and how
it must have felt for them to see someone they knew so far away.
Already fingers prune-y, my friend and I began to pack up,
when over the ridge a couple peeked up and then stood their hugging, swaying,
clearly on something. The sky had grayed by then and in the same way their
group of two sallow faced couples entered the space like a grey cloud covering
the sun. I tried likewise, in my unease and perhaps because of it, to again
express welcome to them in this space they were quickly overtaking, “Hi, how
are y’all? We are just packing up, it will be all yours soon.” My friend said,
“Perfect timing,” It was a way of naming where we were unwelcome, and wiping
the dust off our feet. There was no hesitation on their part and they quickly
walked around us, and the hot spring, and the hill above it and it did feel
like perfect timing as we walked down to our dinky raft and saw that the
couples on drugs had at least been functional enough to plan a trip with nice
kayaks. We crossed the river back laughing at ourselves and the spectacle we
must be two girls in a tiny, tiny raft crossing the river. It's easy to laugh
when you don’t have much bogging you down.
It’s easy to get along naturally when all you have is
all you are - nothing but the words you can speak and the clothes on your back,
and the way you can stop jogging or start walking, or jump in scrubbing, or
offer your snack, or wild asparagus and space for others to dip their legs in
the water, or to let your peace return to you as you wipe the dust off your
feet. Yesterday, after months bundled up inside with all my things, I
remembered how much easier it is to be graceful when you aren’t carrying
anything. It's when we are our best disciples.
